


Monsteroke

by RamblesandDragons



Series: Monster Falls [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Falls (Gravity Falls), Gen, Protective Gargrunk Stan, Stan goes Feral, Violence Against Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblesandDragons/pseuds/RamblesandDragons
Summary: Dipper gets in over his head and Stan realizes how much is grandnephew is like him.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Stan Pines
Series: Monster Falls [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750264
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Monsteroke

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to my wonderful beta reader [Alverann!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alverrann/pseuds/Alverrann)

Things were looking up for Stan and that was a rare treat. That brat Gideon was in jail, he was a town hero, the kids were all right, and he had the Shack back. All in all, not too bad. Maybe giving Dipper the journal was a bad idea, but the kid would have gone rabid trying to get in back. If Stan could play everything cool there could be a good end to this monster curse in sight. Maybe a good end for his family, too, but Stan didn’t want to think _too_ positively. That's when things always went downhill. 

Suddenly there was a gross tingling up his spine. 

_Aw hell, what now?_ He grumpily thought. 

“Uh, Mr. Pines? What was that code word I’m supposed to yell when I see a government vehicle?” Soos asked. 

_Oh shit._

Stan grabbed the loudspeaker, “The Mystery Shack is now closed, everybody out! I will not hesitate to use the hose on the elderly!” That always got people out in a hurry. Dipper came down the stairs with Mabel precariously on his back as the last of the customers fled. 

“Grunkle Stan, what’s going on?” 

“Remember kids, this is all a show,” Stan whispered as he could feel the agents walking towards the door. He beat them to it and threw it open with a flair, smiling widely. 

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, gentlemen! What can I get you? Key chains? Snow globes? These rare photos of American presidents?” From behind him he could hear Mabel whispering to Dipper as he put his sister gently down on the floor. 

“Uh oh, he’s glowing again.” 

A man with whose face was mostly mustache gave the gargoyle a once over. Behind him was a younger man, his face wide with surprise. Both were wearing dark suits nicer than anything Stan had ever owned. 

“My name is Agent Powers and this is Agent Trigger. We're here to investigate reports of mysterious activity in this town, and it looks like we found it.” 

“Mysterious activity? In the Mystery Shack? Ha, no way! Look. All we’ve got here is a bunch of folks who decided to dress up for the summer. Brings in more business, ya’know?” 

The agents didn’t look very convinced and invited themselves into the shack. Stan gulped nervously trying his best to ignore the not so little voice in his head that wanted him to go attack-dog on these agents. It got worse when one of them had to gall to poke him. 

“Hey, this costume wasn’t cheap,” Stan grumbled. 

“Hey,” Dipper said cautiously clopping up to the agent with the moustache, “did you say you were investigating the mysteries of this town?” 

“That information is classified, but yes. Look. Between you and me I believe there is a conspiracy of paranormal origin all connected to this town. We're just one small lead away from blowing the lid of this entire mystery.” 

“Are you kidding me?! I’m investigating the same thing! Maybe you can even help us! There’ve got to be answers somewhere. Together we can fix this and crack the case!” 

“Help you? Well, perhaps. If you think you have any real info we should talk.” Stan’s jaw dropped in terror as the agent handed Dipper a card. “What exactly do you need help with, kid?” 

“Dipper, these nice agents won't want to dress up! They’ve got important work to do!” Stan slid between his nephew and the agent, using his tail to push Dipper away. “As for any mysteries I swear this kid has an overactive imagination. And a sweating problem.” Stan said with a laugh. 

“Ha! Zing!” Mabel said from somewhere behind him. 

“Paranormal town stuff is just part of gift shop lore. Sells more tickets! And when things get slow you dress up in fun costumes!” 

“Right. We have other spots to investigate.” The agent with the mustache walked out followed by the blonde who “confiscated” ten of the bobble heads. Stan couldn’t care less, however, content so long as they were gone. 

“Wait!” Dipper tried to go after them, but Stan picked him up off the ground. His little deer legs kept moving, trying to get away. 

“Kid ...” 

“They could help us, Grunkle Stan! The summer is half over and we’re still like this!” Dipper whined, clearly frustrated. 

“The _last_ thing we need is the feds knowing the truth. They’d just lock us up and poke at us.” 

“If we don’t do something soon we could be stuck like this forever, though!” 

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll wear off. Now, I’m confiscating this.” Stan plucked the card from Dipper’s hand and the boy struggled to swipe it back. “You two get back to work getting ready for the party and _don’t_ go talking to those agents!” 

... 

Stan rubbed his face in frustration and small flecks on stone fell on the console below him. Dipper was so _stubborn!_ Trying to get the government involved, of all things! It’s like he _wanted_ to end up in a cage. The kid was desperately putting his trust in the wrong people, and he could easily end up hurt because of it. 

Stan glared at the portal, faintly glowing just beyond the glass. The old man wasn’t certain whether or not kid trusted him, either, but that was probably smart. The last time his family had really trusted him it’d ended in disaster. Stan––finally––was so _close_ to fixing that mistake and now it seemed that Dipper might inadvertently mess with all of it! 

The kid meant well, though. Stan had to remember that. All Dipper wanted was a cure. Sure, he was a stubborn, prideful 12-year-old, and seemed to be constantly fighting to prove himself to the world ... but he _always_ meant well. That thought pulled Stan away from his work to the picture of the twins he had on the shelf. From the day his nephew had arrived, babbling on about whatever thing he was interested in, Stan had seen him as a mini-Ford. 

Maybe he had forgotten that the kid could be a hell of a lot like him. 

A small chuckle left his lips at the thought. Maybe he should just talk to him; maybe tell him he was working on a cure. If he showed off Ford’s old diploma’s the kid might buy it, but it could also open a whole other can of worms that Stan wasn’t ready to deal with yet. 

A sickening feeling that came with an unbearable wave a nausea hit so hard that Stan dropped the picture onto the console. There was a sickening feeling rising in his stomach and a chill like ice forming in his spine. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong. 

**THE HOUSE! ATTACK! THE KIDS!**

Shaking his head to focus through the feral instincts, he looked to the security cameras. All he could see was the townsfolk running away. What was happening? Sudden pain flared up into his very veins and it didn’t matter what was happening. All Stan knew was _he had to stop it_. 

He flew to the elevator and jammed the button hard enough to break it. The thing started its slow ascent and Stan paced like an animal in a cage. Pain throbbed as whatever was attacking did damage to the house but that paled in comparison to the rage building inside the gargoyle. Who would _dare_ attack his family? 

The elevator was old by this point and hadn’t been handling the extra weight Stan now carried well. It groaned as it passed the 2nd sub floor and Stan dug his nails into the metal walls. He’d rip the top open and climb to the top if he had to. As the elevator reached the top floor the door stuck and the gargoyle’s claws tore into the metal, pulling them open with a screeching noise. He sprinted up the stairs and nearly tore the vending machine off the wall. Finally, in the gift shop he could see them. 

Rotting corpses with sunken eyes all turned their heads to him. Zombies. Actual zombies. Not like Robbie, who was annoying but still had whatever functioning brain a teenage could have (when it didn’t fall out of his head). No, these were soulless monsters. There was a brief moment of shock as Stan couldn’t help but wonder where they’d all come from, then he heard the kids screaming and stopped caring. 

_Nobody, dead or alive, touched his family._

Stan roared and started to tear into the wall of zombies in front of him. Pain pounded in his head as bits and pieces of the shack tore under the assault but that was the only pain. They scratched at his body but only tore at his suit. Never in his life did he think he’d be thankful for being cursed. 

The door to the gift shop slammed open the Dipper ran in with Mabel on his back and Waddles on their heels. One of the zombies grabbed Dipper’s arm, sending his sister tumbling off. 

“MABEL, I’M SORRY!” The poor boy screeched. 

Stan tore the zombie holding his nephew in half. Dipper fell to the ground with a thud and looked up in shock. 

“YOU TWO! ATTIC! _NOW_!” 

“G-Grunkle Stan?” Dipper sputtered. 

“ **I SAID NOW!** ” The words came out at a full-on roar, his voice gravely and booming, betraying the rising terror and rage inside of him. That was enough to shake the kids out of their shock. Dipper pulled Mabel onto his back and they ran up the stairs with Waddles behind them. 

“Okay you undead jerks, you ready to DIE TWICE?” Stan snarled. 

Now that Stan knew where the kids were, he let himself fall into the red haze of rage that had been building. The only thing he knew was the desire to rip and tear at these creatures, and that’s what he did. His long claws tore them in half as he sunk them into their chests. He easily took off their heads with a punch or crushed them in his large hands. He went to rip at one’s throat, but human logic stopped him, putting undead flesh in his mouth was probably a bad idea. Instead, he opted to slam it in the head with his horns. One slipped behind him and he wrapped his tail around its neck, slamming it to the ground. The pain he felt at the structural damage only served to fuel his fight. 

A part of the fighter thought that he could actually be winning. He was getting tired but there was also a decent dent in the horde. He could do this. He could protect the kids. He could win. 

Then another wave of creatures burst through the wall making Stan’s head want to split open in pain. They piled on top of him like a tidal wave and almost buried him in a mountain of flesh. Screaming, Stan threw them off with a frantic flapping of his wings. One of them grabbed onto his arm and bit down hard. 

The man’s heart dropped into his stomach as he heard stone crack. 

Flinging the thing off him Stan started to back away. A quick glance at his arm showed faint orange cracks in his skin. It hurt but it didn’t feel deep. The pain brought him back to his senses. He prayed that the bite wasn’t deep enough to change him to one of them. The kids would be goners if they had to deal with a zombie gargoyle. 

He started to wonder if they were goners anyway. 

Backing up to the stairs more of the creatures kept coming. Heading up the stairs Stan picked up the grandfather clock and tossed into a pile of them. It only slowed them down for a moment, but it was long enough to get to the attic door. After a few slams he got the thing open and thanked anyone listening the kids were still alright. Barricading the door with the chair he took a deep breath. 

“G-Grunkle Stan, that was incredible! Are you all right?” Dipper asked wildly. 

“Yeah, but we won't be for long. Where did they come from?” 

Instantly Dipper looked guilty. The kid took a deep breath and looked Stan in the eyes. “I was trying to prove to the agents that the supernatural was real, but they weren’t believing me. So, I summoned a zombie … or maybe 100 of them.” 

“Dipper!” The kid flinched as Stan’s voice came out gravely and harsh. He took a deep breath and bent down to level with him. “I know you want answers but sometimes looking for them can cause more trouble. That’s why … I stopped.” 

“What?” 

“I used to be a scientist but I realized how dangerous this place was and stopped. I’ve been working on a cure and I’m close, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough.” 

Both kids looked at him in shock. Heck even the pig looked shocked. _What was one more lie?_ Stan tried to rationalize to himself. He then found himself wondering when he was going to be able to stop using that as an excuse. The conman gulped as Dipper processed the information. 

“Are you the author of the journal?” He asked in a whisper. 

“Hold on.” 

A zombie crashed through the window and Stan punched it back. Looking down he realized that more of them were climbing up the side of the house. 

“No. Whoever wrote it was a lot smarter than I’ll ever be.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mabel looked a little dejected. Lying had never hurt this badly before. 

“It’s complicated. I stopped because I wasn’t good enough, you know? But I’m super close to figuring something out if we could just survive this.” 

“Well, normally the journal would help us, but there's nothing in there about defeating zombies!” Stan’s eyes grew wide as Dipper stepped into the blacklight the kids had kept in their room. 

“Wait! Look! The text is glowing in the black light!” Mabel gasped. 

“What?” Dipper slammed the book to the ground and brought the black light closer. “All this time I thought I knew all the journal's secrets, but they're written in some kind of invisible ink!” 

“Invisible ink,” Stan whispered. What other secrets had his brother been hiding? Maybe this could tell him why he was falling apart the last time Stan had seen him. All he wanted to do was flip through the pages, but the impending zombie horde took precedence. 

“This is it! ‘Zombies have a weakness! Previously thought to be invincible, their skulls can be shattered by a perfect three-part harmony.’ Three-part harmony, how can we create that? I have a naturally high-pitched scream …?” 

“I can make noises with my mouth. Sometimes intentionally.” Stan had a bad idea he knew where this was headed. 

“Boys, boys. I think you’re missing the obvious solution,” Mabel said with a smile. Yep. Stan was going to have to do the unthinkable. 

Karaoke. 

Well at least it was with the kids. 

... 

One cheesy 80’s song later the sun rose over the horizon and it was the most beautiful thing Stan had seen. The shack however was the biggest _mess_ he had ever seen. 

“I'm sorry about this, guys. I totally ruined everything...” Dipper began but Mabel cut him off. 

“Dipper, are you kidding me? I got to sing karaoke with my two-favorite people in the world! No party could ever top that!” 

Well since the kids were square with each other. 

“Kids, listen. This town is crazy. So, you need to be careful. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you got hurt on my watch. I'll let you hold on to that spooky journal, as long as you promise me you'll only use it for self-defense, and not go looking for trouble. And no more talking to people outside of town about our condition. Trust me to handle this, okay?” Most of the speech was aimed at Dipper but Mabel nodded her head in agreement. 

“Okay, as long as you promise me that you don't have any other bombshell secrets about yourself.” Dipper reached out his hand. Stan shook it. 

“Promise.” The con man hoped Dipper wouldn’t notice the crossed fingers behind his back. Earning Dipper’s trust wasn’t easy. Stan really hoped he wouldn’t mess it up too badly. 

“Okay, this place needs a lot of work. Where’s my handyman? Soos!” 

“Out here!” A voice from the parking lot yelled. The family went outside and stood confused until the voice sounded again from a small mud puddle. 

“Holy Moses! Soos, what happened to ya?” 

The handyman, or what was left of him, stared up at the three of them from his small puddle. “Well people kind of stampeded out of here and then the zombies stampeded in. I got ran over.” Soos said in a matter-of-fact way. 

“Are ya in pain?” Stan asked. 

“Nah, I think I just need some more mud to pull myself together.” 

“I’ll go get the hose,” Dipper sighed as he clopped off. 

... 

After Soos was back to normal the whole day was spent cleaning. Well, … most of it. At some point the four of them passed out in the den. Stan woke up sometime around midnight. The old man placed Mabel in her tank upstairs and Dipper in his bed. It was easy to slip the third journal from the boy’s pocket. He was so tired he was snoring. After covering Soos with a blanket Stan slipped behind the vending machine with a black light in hand. 

“Alright Ford. What do ya got to tell me?” 

**Author's Note:**

> So if the main surprise at the end of the canon episode is "Kid I've always known." then Stan admitting to being a former researcher felt right for this AU. I can also see Dipper stressing over a cure just as much as who the author is.
> 
> My other two stories are still happening I've just got some crazy writer's block with them.


End file.
